Little Bird
by Slothmonster
Summary: Little Bird, what do you see?
1. Rest

**AN: **I'll be updating this from time to time to keep my brain going during down days of the week. This song was inspired by the song Little Bird from Imogen Heap's Ellipse album. I suggest you take a listen. Also I apologize if this first chapter is wonky, I didn't bother proofreading it for venting purposes. I'll try proofreading before hand in the future..

-SM

* * *

_"Kowalski it's time to take on the arena…even if you are going to be the brains of this team you need to know how to fight!_

_ You'll be put into intense training for at least seven hours every two days for the next four weeks. I expect to see a breakthrough by Friday."_

This phrase went over and over in the penguin's head, making sure he had it down. His azure eyes scanned over the empty room, mentally noting out where each of the traps would come from by irregularities in the paneling.

An amount of feedback came from a small speaker up in the corner of the room making Kowalski jump.

_Alright soldier. I want to see what you can do for the next seven hours. You can't see me but I can see you, I will have someone monitoring your status throughout the period of your training. He is under no circumstance to help you if you don't survive the next seven hours. Good luck! _

A small click echoed throughout the metallic room signaling that the speaker had finished its onesided conversation with him.

"I have never fought in my life…" Kowalski had said with disbelief. His misty thoughts were cleared when a loud buzzer went off, which had signaled for all the traps, explosions, decoy enemies to deploy.

_Shit…shit. Okay Kowalski…you can do-_

Before he had time to psyche himself out a large stone had came hurtling towards him, slamming him back into the door, forcing the air from his stomach and leaving him crippled against the floor gasping for his breath.

Kowalski eyed around as fast as he could attempting to get back up on his flippers, barely dodging a barrage of arrows coming from his left.

Training barely started and he was already out of breath as he booked it for the other side of the room, elbowing a few of the bad guy decoys out of his way and kicking them to the floor while evading a wall of fire that had almost singed off his tail feathers.

_This isn't training…th-this is a death wish.._ he thought, attempting to wildly flail his flippers at one of the decoys that actually was able to attack him first. Once again, a large brick had caught him off guard, sending him to a wall on the side of the room, whimpering from the pain that throbbed in his chest. But again, Kowalski got to his feet and did what he could, he evaded the knives that rained from the ceiling, one or two slicing his back, dodged the tennis balls that shot out from small holes in the wall at bone crushing speed.

Hours passed and Kowalski was losing it, he was losing to this hell hole. No matter how many times he tried to find pattern in the traps they would always come out differently again, this chaos wasn't structured, it was frustrating…his body was failing on him.

The firm flippers he had in the beginning of this "training session" were now nothing but jelly used to keep himself balanced, his legs were giving out and it was becoming difficult for him to even keep up with half the traps.

From being hit with those bricks so often he assumed he had a bit of internal bleeding and a cracked rib or two.

All it took was one more of those decoys for him to finally give out…one precise punch into his beak and a quick chop against his shoulder and he fell, hard.

"D-dammnit…" he winced, trying to keep his eyes open as he kept focused on the small window in the top of the room.

Sounds were blurring, as was his vision…_I'm not cut out for this_.

_I'm not cut out for this…_

He repeated to himself over and over, trying to limp to one of the corners of the room out of safety, the loud sounds around him stopped one by one. Kowalski could hear his heart throbbing in his chest. It echoed through his eardrums, pounding harder and harder. His eyes were beginning to close; finding it pointless to stare at blurs of white wall…something came into focus…a figure…someone.

It didn't emit a sound other than some grunts…Kowalski didn't care; the only thing he wanted to do now was…_sleep. _


	2. Fluorescence

It echoed deep in his head over and over…a sound that was more familiar to him than any other in the world. He kept with the consistent beat, and he thought about it, the louder it got. _Silly Kowalski, that's your heart beating. I thought that I was dead…Apparently not…_

His eyes poked out behind his heavy lids, greeting the dim lit room he was resting in. Kowalski began to sit up but his body hissed in protest which had forced him back down on the pristine white bed. He groaned while examining the large bloodstained bandage that covered most of his chest and stomach.

Kowalski tenderly pressed on the red bandage giving out another wince. A sound of warning had come from behind the analytical penguin, if only his accursed body would allow him to turn around to see what had caused the sound.

"Whose there?"

"Nu-uh…" a raspy voice emitted.

"Whoever you are I suggest you stay still!" the bandaged penguin attempted to warn.

"Lay…"

Kowalski watched the figure come into his line of vision, another penguin. He hesitated.

"Down," the penguin pressed.

"If you insist…" Kowalski reluctantly mumbled, resting against the bed once more.

The penguin regurgitated a blade from within his gullet and cleaned it off with a small cloth. His blade moved down towards the bottom of Kowalski's stomach, which had made him flinch and tense up.

"J-just wait a minute lets not be rash!"

Taking what Kowalski had said for a grain of salt, he gave a devilish grin. Kowalski felt himself clench harder, waiting for more pain to ensue. To his surprise, he wasn't cut at all…he was fine.

His azure eyes popped from behind his lids once again and noticed that the other penguin had been slipping off his old bandages. Kowalski relaxed and let out an uneasy breath.

The bigger penguin chuckled and dropped off the soaked bandages into the small wastebasket beside him, grabbing a new roll.

"Up."

Seeing that this one wasn't an enemy Kowalski had done as he was told doing his best to get into a sitting position. This was the first time he was face to face with the other and the first thing that Kowalski had noticed about this penguin's face was _that scar_.

He felt rude for staring but it was enticing, his wing coming up and attempting to move forward towards it. This confused the larger penguin and grabbed for his flipper and set it back down to his side.

"Still."

A nervous smile crept on his beak, "uh- sorry."

"mmnh," was all he got in response while the scarred penguin began to examine the wound that resided on Kowalski's chest. It was some of his handiwork having to readjust his ribs and all. With a few more glances at the large cut he began to tenderly press his flipper to the other's ribs.

"Hurt?"

Kowalski flinched with each press against the area, "y-yes please stop…" he whined.

There was that silence again from this penguin that was prodding at him, examining his stitching job and massaging against his ribcage. It was certainly an odd feeling, pain with pleasure.

After what he assumed was a physical examination and dabbing the stitches with simple rubbing alcohol he was wrapped up fresh and was moved onto a more mobile bed, one that could be reclined forward if Kowalski wished to sit upwards.

"Thank you…" he had said staring at the penguin that was now making breakfast in the front of the room which had a small kitchen-like setup.

Another grunt was all that his thanks was acknowledged with, and a cup full of soup with a chopped up fish on a skewer to the side.

Kowalski held the cup and sipped from it a few times, the taste of something other than blood was rather nice.

Time passed and the other penguin had kept himself busy, Kowalski watching him as he idly sipped away at his own cup of soup.

His actions were amusing, when he cleaned it was always pristine afterwards, at each meal later on that day his cooking methods were excellent, it seemed the other could do nothing…but speak to him.

"Pardon me…I don't want to be a bother anymore but, could I ask for your name?"

Setting down his knife, he turned back to Kowalski looking him square in the eye. His breath was low, relaxed, and softer.

"Rico."


End file.
